


last call for happiness

by Talahui



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Famous/Not Famous, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Bachelor AU, Declarations Of Love, M/M, Pining, benefits to boos, media guy Tyson au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 07:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18960931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talahui/pseuds/Talahui
Summary: Gabe gives up on the bowls and starts digging for forks instead, but the first drawer he checks is full of random bread tags, protein bars, and rubber bands. On the very top is a questionnaire with the Bachelor logo in large, color print.It’s like a slapshot to the face from a teammate, unexpected and no less painful coming from friendly fire. Tyson was looking for love, and why wouldn’t he be. So he and Gabe hooked up sometimes. They weren’t exclusive. Tyson picked up other people occasionally, and Gabe pretended he did so it didn’t get weird. As the Av’s media guy, Tyson could have something real if he wanted, but as long as Gabe was playing hockey, no strings attached sex with Tyson was the best he could get.





	last call for happiness

**Author's Note:**

> regular rpf disclaimer that this piece of fiction in no way represents the actual human beings whose names and public personas have been borrowed to tell this story. If you found this by googling your name or the name of someone you know, congratulations on an ao3 account. Please hit that back button.
> 
> Additional disclaimer: I have never seen an episode of the Bachelor and still thought it'd be a good idea to write a Bachelor au. A huge thank you to japery for the bachelor primer so I at least had some idea of what I was getting myself into.
> 
> A huge thank you to olympvs, who read this at multiple stages, and josthockeythings, who helped get me through the final push. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to them both for their suggestions, corrections, and cheerleading.

Gabe rummages through Tyson’s cupboards for a microwave safe bowl to reheat the takeaway they’d been too distracted to eat earlier, but there’s no discernible organization method. While he’s found plates and pans in one cabinet, pots and tupperware in another, the bowls are nowhere in sight. This would be so much easier if they did this at his place, but Tyson goes malleable and sleepy after sex and refuses to spend the night, so he always forces Gabe to make the drive home.

Gabe gives up on the bowls and starts digging for forks instead, but the first drawer he checks is full of random bread tags, protein bars, and rubber bands. On the very top is a questionnaire with the Bachelor logo in large, color print.

_ Please describe your ideal partner in terms of physical attraction and in terms of personality attraction.  _

_ What is most important: physical attraction or personality when first meeting someone? _

_ How many serious relationships have you been in and how long were they?  _

_ What have you not found but would like to have in a relationship? _

It’s like a slapshot to the face from a teammate, unexpected and no less painful coming from friendly fire. Tyson was looking for love, and why wouldn’t he be. So he and Gabe hooked up sometimes. They weren’t exclusive. Tyson picked up other people occasionally, and Gabe pretended he did so it didn’t get weird. As the Av’s media guy, Tyson could have something real if he wanted, but as long as Gabe was playing hockey, no strings attached sex with Tyson was the best he could get.

Maybe a tiny part of him had hoped they could keep doing what they were doing for a couple more years ‘til the timing worked out, but he was never gonna be the kind of guy who could have someone as great as Tyson while he was still playing. 

Tyson couldn’t be subtle if you paid him in Blizzards. 

And Gabe--

Gabe wasn’t ready to be out.

When the time came, he wasn’t the guy for Tyson, and that’s all there was.

Warm arms wrap around his waist, and Tyson mouths at the freckles on Gabe’s shoulder. “Oh yeah, I forgot I’ve gotta fill that out.” He plucks the papers from Gabe’s hand and discards them with a lazy flick of his wrist, bringing Gabe’s hands to his hips. He’s completely naked still, and the soft skin beneath Gabe’s fingertips was definitely more interesting.

“So far you like guys,” Gabe supplies, nipping the sensitive spot below Tyson’s jaw. “Might want to narrow it down a little.”

Tyson laughs. His blunt fingernails rake through Gabe’s hair as he pulls Gabe closer against him. “Definitely needs a small-to-normal sized head.” Tyson groans as Gabe rolls his hips against Tyson’s. “Absolutely no hockey players.”

Gabe bites down hard on Tyson’s collarbone. He doesn’t mean to, but--teasing or not--he hates the pointed disinterest. It’s not like he needed the reminder that he wasn’t what Tyson was looking for. He kisses the angry skin. That’ll leave a mark.

Later, while Tyson watches Gabe pull on his clothes to go home, he pokes at the bruises littering his chest. “Why are you like this? Now I’m gonna have to wear a nun habit when they interview me so no one knows I’m a slut for hickies.”

Gabe has always liked marking Tyson’s skin with his mouth. He likes knowing the next guy Tyson fucks will know he’d had him first. Tyson never lets anyone else do it, and Gabe likes that too--likes that Tyson lets him do it cuz he knows how into it Gabe is.

“They're gonna wanna interview you, y’know,” Tyson says, tossing a stray sock that had managed to land on a bedside lamp towards Gabe. “They asked who my people were, and I said you and Nate, so they’ll want to include you in my like Meet the Bachelor profile.”

Gabe yanks on the sock and tries to push down the hollow ache growing in the pit of his stomach. “Oh?”

“They mostly chose me for the hockey angle,” Tyson admits sheepishly. ‘My friend Josué works for the show and threw in my name since he thought it’d be compelling to have someone connected to one of the pro-sports be their first gay bachelor. Combat the image of sports homophobia or whatever. They’re gonna include the team as much as they can. Really hit that You Can Play angle hard.”

“Right,” Gabe agrees.

 

“What about this one?” Gabe holds up another shirt and looks at EJ expectantly.

EJ crams a too large bite of his burrito into his mouth and rolls his eyes. “That is literally the same shirt as the last three you showed me. Just pick one.”

Gabe hesitates over two slightly different black t-shirts before EJ throws a dark blue one at his face and huffs, “This with the dark wash jeans. Nate’s been texting for the last twenty minutes whining that you’re taking too long.”

They’re supposed to meet at Tyson’s apartment at two, but Nate’s still complaining when they roll up to Tyson’s front door at five ‘til. Gabe hip checks him harder than he needs to as Nate knocks, and Nate’s a big enough baby about it that he has to retaliate by shoving Gabe into the wall.

Tyson swings open the door just as Gabe’s elbow connects with a tender spot below Nate’s ribs. Cameras and boom mics are everywhere, and both Gabe and Nate freeze like they’ve never been interviewed before in their lives.

“Hey, bro?” Nate says, voice inching up at the end, the  _ what the fuck? _ clearly implied.

Tyson smiles, eyes equally wide, as he gestures to a towering woman in a power suit. Emphasis on the power. “This is Marta. She’s like...the boss of the Bachelor.”

Marta laughs, a professional version of a genuine laugh that anyone who’s spent enough time around cameras has perfected. “Not quite, but I’ll take it. Why don’t we have you go over a few of the boring logistics with Joanie, and then we can get started.” 

After signing consent forms and going over a brief list of what they want to capture, the crew films them for a bit doing sanitized versions of their regular life: throwing a ball for Ralphie at the dog park, arguing over which kinds of Blizzards to order until Gabe capitulates and gets his second favorite flavor so that Tyson could swap their cups halfway through, a dance interlude while they’re walking down 16th Street when Nate and Tyson get distracted by a street musician. Once the production team decides they’ve gotten enough footage of them around the city, they head back to Tyson’s, where they crowd into his tiny kitchen and goodnaturedly mock his cooking technique.

Afterward, Marta pulls Gabe into Tyson’s office for the individual interview and has him sit in front of the window with the view of the Denver skyline. He definitely does not think about the time he’d spread Tyson out on this desk and taken him apart with his fingers and his mouth until Tyson had begged for Gabe to get inside him.  _ “Let me come on your dick, Gabe. Jesus. I don’t ask for too much.” _

At least Nate got to do his interview in the living room where Tyson had crawled into Gabe’s lap and kissed him until he’d come in his pants like a fourteen year old who’d just figured out what  lotion was for.

Marta jumps into her whole spiel about the mechanics of the interview, which beats they want to hit and how it will fit into the overall arc they’ve already decided to give Tyson. It’s mostly the sorts of things Gabe would have wanted to tell people about Tyson anyway--his kindness, the way he brings joy into any room he walks into, how he’ll make a fool of himself if it means making someone laugh--and Marta seems happy enough with what he’s given her if the way her face completely lights up is any indication. Once the interview wraps up, she gives Gabe her card in case he ever decides the Bachelor might be for him before releasing him to rejoin his friends.

Tyson and Nate have evidently given up on waiting for him to finish, eating directly out of take out containers that Tyson had very intentionally hidden out of view of the cameras.

“Damn, dude, what took you so long? I’ve been done forever,” Nate says.

“I think she was recruiting me?” Gabe says. “She gave me her card and said to contact her if I was ever interested.”

Nate snorts as Tyson says, “Of course she did. Like you need anyone else to tell you you’re hot and everyone in America wants to bang you.”

“All of America, huh?” Gabe crosses his arms across his chest in a way that accentuates his arms and drives Tyson crazy. “Sounds like you’re selling me short. I have a well documented success rate with Swedes.” He steps closer to Tyson so that he’s boxed him into the counter. “Also Canadians.”

“Allegedly,” Tyson breathes, but he’s already looking at Gabe like he’s something to devour.

“Guys, gross!” Nate throws a pair of Tyson’s fancy chopsticks at them, and they bounce off Gabe’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”

“Then go away,” Gabe says, not looking back. Tyson runs his tongue over his bottom lip and hesitates, hovering on his toes before thinking better of it and dropping back down to his heels.

“I’ve got more recording at Pepsi Center, but come over later?”

“Yeah.”

Tyson grins, and before Gabe can react, he’s pulled Gabe down into a searing kiss. With a final swipe of his tongue, he pulls away. “One for the road.”

“The worst,” Nate grouses. “We’re leaving.”

Tyson laughs. “Bye, Nate.”

 

In the car, Nate presses every pre-set button on Gabe’s radio before giving up on his music tastes and shutting it off. 

“I can’t believe you’re gonna let him be on this show,” he says, sinking back in the soft leather seats.

“What’s there for me to let him do? He’s going, and he’ll find somebody great,” Gabe says. “He deserves someone great.”

Nate rolls his eyes and starts playing with the climate control instead. “You’re an idiot.”

“Fuck you,” Gabe slaps his hands away and readjusts it to the correct temperature. “I’m your captain. I can make coach bag skate you whenever I want. That makes you the idiot.”

“At least I’m not too chickenshit to ask someone I care about to actually be with me.”

Gabe bristles but doesn’t argue. What does Nate know about caring for somebody so much that all the things you can’t be for them start to eat you up? He’s only ever been in love with his dogs and hockey and the idea of loving someone someday in the conveniently distant future.

Gabe goes to Tyson’s later that night, and he goes the night before Tyson flies out. The last night in five years’ worth of nights.

“You should stay,” Tyson says mid-yawn as Gabe rolls over to grab his shirt from the floor by the bed. “Then you can take me to the airport in the morning.”

It’s a chance  to change things. “Stay,” he could say when Tyson octopuses across his back. “Pick me,” when they load Tyson’s bags into the back of his car. “Don’t leave,” when they hug goodbye and Tyson disappears into the line for security.

But he doesn’t, and Tyson doesn’t ask him to.

 

The promos start airing in late February, and EJ wastes no time before he announces his intention to host a weekly watch party at his place. “Bring twenty bucks and the name of your ride or die guy,” he says, gesturing to the bios he’s plastered all over the locker room. “If you don’t do your research that is not. My. Problem. Betting is required so that I can hold it over you all when I inevitably win and Luka gets the Tyson prize.”

Nate stalks over to EJ and snatches Luka’s bio from Mikko’s locker, scanning the page before crumpling it and tossing it at EJ’s face. “The guy who rehabs old race horses. No fucking way is he going for that Seabiscuit wannabe. It’s obviously gonna be the outdoorsy one who coaches women’s college hockey. Tys can’t resist a hot blonde on skates.”

“Seabiscuit was the horse,” EJ sniffs, retrieving the rumpled photo and smoothing it back out before rehanging it on the locker. “And he was a champion.”

 

The night of the premiere EJ has a betting board with photos of their picks and the odds of particular wins. A bunch of the guys go for the single dad who owns a kitschy ice cream shop in Portland, which EJ deems too obvious given Tyson’s notorious sweet tooth, and Gabe has to agree. Two thirds of Rookie House go all in on a NatGeo photographer who is obviously too flighty to handle Tyson in the long-term, but Josty is adamantly team fireman.

“First of all, firefighters are hot. That’s just science,” Josty explains to the boos of his housemates. “Second of all,” he holds up the guy’s headshot. “Dude looks like Sidney Crosby.”

“We’re picking for Tyson, not Nate,” EJ chirps, but gives him decent odd anyways.

Nate scowls, shoving at EJ as he slides in next to Gabe with a bowl of popcorn. “Like your pick isn’t blatantly wishing for a new best friend.”

EJ looks unapologetic. “Anyone he picks has to like at least one of us. I’m working under the assumption that Tyson knows my opinion is the most important.”

There are a couple guys he could see Tyson liking in a serious way, several more he’ll like in a Gabe type of way that will likely involve lots of onscreen tongue. Gabe reluctantly puts his money on the kindergarten teacher with a song for everything and a tie collection that closely resembles Ms. Frizzle’s thematic dresses. He’s whimsical enough to keep Tyson interested, but sweet and stable in order to reign in Tyson’s more harebrained ideas. No need to relive the Celine Dion tabletop serenade of 2017. He was probably a little too Nice for the team, but Yak had survived them, so Nice boys could find their way.

As a joke, Mikko picks the personal trainer despite Tyson’s extremely vocal disapproval of exercise as a hobby, but he still lasts longer than Gabe’s kindergarten teacher. Neither of them make it to the team meet and greet on the ice after practice a few weeks later, but Luka the Horse Guy does, and so does Julian, Josty’s fireman.

Gabe does a few lazy laps around the edge of the rink while his teammates converge on Tyson’s six remaining suitors. Tyson looks so good. Not that he didn’t look good before. He was always everything Gabe wanted, a low hum that he never quite forgot was there but didn’t really think too hard about either. From the first time Tyson had introduced himself, pink cheeked and panting from chasing Factor around for a segment, Gabe had been hooked.

Nate’s holding court over by the net, showing a couple of the guys how to grip the stick properly for his signature slapshot while EJ monopolizes Horse Guy over by the visitor’s bench once it’s clear he has the legs of a baby gazelle on the ice.

“Absolutely not!” Gabe hears Tyson shout from all the way across the ice as he skates circles around EJ. He nudges Luka gently enough to keep him upright and grins as he slings an arm around his waist. “Make EJ talk to you about something other than horses.” 

The guy laughs, and Tyson tilts his head to smile up at Luka with the full force of his attention. Gabe doesn’t blame the guy when he loses his balance a little and EJ has to haul him upright by the elbow. Tyson’s full attention is a lot.

Gabe feels ill.

Clay, the college hockey coach Nate had put a hundred bucks on, skates up to him shyly. He seems a lot more confident on the show, but maybe that’s all television magic. The golden hair is the real deal though.

“Can I ask you something?”

Gabe shrugs. “Go for it.”

“It’s just--Tyson talks about you a lot--the whole team, but especially you--and I wondered...” Clay hesitates, coming to a graceful stop by the team bench. “I’ve been feeling pretty middle of the pack the whole time, and I wondered what you thought my chances were.”

Gabe can feel his media answer forming even as he turns on his least obvious media smile. They’d mic’d them all up beforehand, and it was hard to forget the cameras capturing them at every angle. This was PR for the Avs just as much as it was an opportunity for Tyson, and Gabe was the captain. He had to get this right. 

“Nate’s got his money on you.” He claps Clay on the shoulder. “Hard to beat best buddy approval.”

This must be the answer he was looking for, because Clay grins and his whole body relaxes into his skates. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“What about your pick?” Clay asks as Tyson speeds between them and stops himself by throwing his arms around both of their shoulders.

Gabe pinches Tyson’s side, sending him squirming away, but he reels him back in with an arm slung low across his hips. “He sent my guy home week three.”

Tyson huffs. “You don’t know what I want at all.”

The crew lets Tyson follow them back to the locker room without the potential fiancés once they’ve gotten all of the on-ice shots they need. Everyone talks over each other, their voices bouncing back in the narrow tunnel as they try to coerce spoilers out of Tyson despite the rolling cameras.

Tyson plops himself down at Gabe’s locker and starts unlacing his skates. “Make yourself at home, I guess,” Gabe chirps, sitting down next to him. Their shoulders bump as they work on their laces.

“What do you think?” Tyson has stopped, one skate still on as he gazes at Gabe expectantly. 

Gabe works at Tyson’s other lace until the knot pulls loose. “I think if you’d wanted to date EJ you could have just asked.”

“Stop it,” Tyson nudges Gabe with his hip, but he’s laughing.

“Definite EJ vibes,” Gabe teases. “EJ adjacent at the very least.”

“God, he really is, isn’t he,” Tyson admits forlornly.

“Way better looking though,” Gabe gives him. “Probably still has all of his teeth.”

Tyson pulls off his sweater, a generic one without a name or number on the back, and throws it at Gabe’s bag. The producers must have gotten it from Cliff or one of the other equipment guys before they’d started filming. Tyson has a couple of Gabe’s at home, but they probably didn’t want some guy’s name plastered across Tyson’s back when he was supposed to be extremely single and ready to mingle. It was probably for the best. Gabe had fucked Tyson in his sweater more than once.

“Can confirm, all teeth are accounted for,” Tyson says.

“Did you get his dental records?”

Tyson waggles his eyebrows in a very unsexy way that still very much works for Gabe because something was deeply and irrevocably wrong with him. “I am very familiar with the inside of his mouth.”

The sick feeling from earlier is back, but now it’s moved up from his stomach to his chest where it feels like a rubber band pulled taut around his airways.

This is what being around Tyson will be like from now on. Even if it isn’t Horse Guy, Tyson will come back with someone. Or maybe he won’t. These guys are from places like Nashville and Monterey and Chicago. There were NHL teams in most of those cities who would be lucky to have a media guy as good as Tyson.

Maybe Tyson wouldn’t come back at all.

 

The attendance for EJ’s watch parties that had dropped off mid-season is back to 100% the night their Avalanche episode airs. Everyone wants to see who managed to make the biggest ass of himself on tv, and EJ had even set up a side bet for those who wanted to predict the winner of the Most Embarrassing title.

“That’s not fair,” Josty had complained while EJ happily accepted people’s money. “Everyone knows I blew a tire and took  Julian  out on my way down.’

“Then it’s easy money,” EJ had shrugged.

“You didn’t hear what Big Z said,” Gravy had singsonged. “No such thing as easy money.”

The reality is much less amusing. Other than capturing JT shooting water up his visor in a failed attempt to drink, they spend very little time with the rest of the team individually, focusing on Tyson's interactions with the contestants instead: Clay skating circles around Tyson in a way that dares him to keep up,Tyson leading Owen by the hand so he wouldn't fall, chirping EJ and Luka for their single conversation topic. 

Gabe wins most embarrassing purely for the amount of screen time the editors give him.

“Of course they love Gabe's giant head more than the rest of us,” Josty sighs. He'd only made it into a couple of group shots and had managed to do nothing memorable during any of them.

Only Nate had put his money on Gabe, and he cheers loudly when EJ hands over nearly five hundred bucks.

“How is that even fair?” Gabe protests. He’d refused to bet on principle. “The episode’s not even over yet. There’s still plenty of time for you idiots to do something stupid.”

“Bro…” JT drags the word out as he sweeps his arm toward the screen. It’s Gabe and Tyson in the locker room, laughing as they change out of their hockey gear.

“Honestly, Landy,” EJ says, and from anyone else it would be almost sympathetic. On screen, Gabe has Tyson’s foot in his lap and is untying the knot with careful fingers, his real smile on full display. “Why are you like that?”

“Like what?” Gabe snaps.

“Heart eyes, Motherfucker,” EJ deadpans, doing a weird flicking motion with his hands over his eyes.

“First prize, Motherfucker,” Nate agrees in the same deadpan, fanning himself with his winnings and high fiving EJ with his other hand.

“Fuck you,” Gabe huffs. “No high fiving for that.”

EJ raises both hands and starts high fiving all the guys out of spite. Once this is over, Gabe is taking new applications for best friend since his current one is the worst.

Gabe tries to ignore the continued chirps as the episode goes on, but now that he’s seen it, he can’t unsee it: the unnecessary touches to Tyson’s hip and ankle and waist, the way his eyes track Tyson a moment too long, how he constantly leans into Tyson’s space like there’s some gravitational pull that keeps dragging him in.

He’s so in love with Tyson he can’t even reign it in when he’s supposed to be helping Tyson find the right guy. Maybe Nate had won fair and square after all.

 

Jamie Benn texts Gabe a few days before Tyson is set to bring the final two contestants up to Victoria to meet his family and friends. It’s an unknown number, and it takes a few minutes of confused back and forth before he realizes the captain of the Dallas Stars is texting him. One World Cup and Klinger thinks he can hand his number out to anybody.

_ Are you really gonna let him propose to one of these guys? _ Jamie shoots off once his identity has been established.

Gabe ignores it in favor of ensuring the right combination of lemon, dill, and other spices on his salmon. He waits for the oven to finish pre-heating then slides the baking sheet onto the middle rack before returning to the message. More time hadn’t helped him come up with a response better than  _ like I’ve got a say _ , so he sends it anyways.

His phone chimes almost immediately.  _ So give him a better option. _ He doesn’t send anything else, and Gabe doesn’t reply, but the suggestion sits with him all night, ruining what should have been a more than adequate meal. He fidgets his way through the first period of a Nashville/Tampa game before giving up and digging out Marta’s card from the bottom of his junk drawer.

There are only two guys left, and one more chance to give Tyson a better option.

Marta picks up on the second ring, voice more alert than it should be at the end of a working day, but with the way filming goes she probably has hours yet before they wrap for the night.

“Marta, hi. This is Gabriel Landeskog. Tyson’s friend.” He tries to sound as charming as possible, pasting a smile on his face even though she can’t see him. His mom always said she could hear him smile, and she would know.

“Yes. Mr. Landeskog, I remember.” She sounds pleased. “Have you been watching the season?”

“I haven’t missed an episode,” he answers honestly. He doesn’t say how every week he dies a little watching Tyson glow under the attention of these spectacularly kind and clever men Gabe had practically  encouraged  him to go meet.

“And now you want your own turn?” Marta prompts, delighted.

Gabe hesitates. “Not--not exactly.” He already has a flight pulled up on his laptop for Denver to Victoria that leaves tomorrow night. It means missing optional skate and flying into Winnipeg for their game the next day on his own dime, but even if Bednar scratches him, he’s ready to do it. A shot at being with Tyson for real is worth that.

“Explain,” she says, more interested now.

Gabe exhales noisily and tries to put the roiling in his stomach into words. He loves Tyson--is  _ in love _ with him--but he hasn’t said that out loud yet no matter how obvious Nate and EJ think he’s been, and really Tyson should be the first one to hear it, not some producer Gabe’s met once.

“I want a shot,” he says, then clarifies, “with Tyson.” He opens a second tab to google directions to Tyson’s parents’ house from the airport. “I know you’re going to Victoria tomorrow so the finalists can meet Tyson’s family, and I want to talk to him, let him know he’s got another option.”

“What’s in it for us?” Marta asks, voice shrewd and not even a little bit surprised. “I’m in the business of making good TV. You wooing Tyson behind the scenes doesn’t get us a proposal, and a Bachelor who dumps both of his suitors unexpectedly is not a ratings winner.”

For the first time he realizes that he might have been playing into her hands the whole time. Had she known from that first interview? If not then, their time on the ice had been damning enough. The guys had sent enough screencaps from that episode as evidence for him to know.

“Captain of an NHL Team Comes Out on the Bachelor,” he offers as a headline. “That’s gonna get you views.”

It’s hard to argue with a deal like that. 

Twenty-four hours later he lands in Victoria. Before he can even look for a Lyft, someone Gabe assumes is associated with the Bachelor whisks him away from the airport and leaves him in a hotel room with blackout curtains where he’s told to wait. If he’s managed to get himself kidnapped instead, he’s gonna be pissed.

He’s half asleep by the time a silver-haired man lugging a heavy case bursts into the room. He stops suddenly and slides his gaze over Gabe, assessing. 

“What kind of Prince Charming nonsense is this?” he asks to no one in particular, gesturing to Gabe’s everything. “You better have brought something else to wear, because that hair alone deserves better than whatever crumpled airplane leisurewear you are currently working with.”

Gabe holds up his carry-on. “I didn’t realize I was going to need your approval.”

“Of course you didn’t,” the man huffs, gesturing for Gabe to take a seat. “Amateur mistake.”

An hour later--Gabe’s hair restyled, his beard trimmed and shaped, and his face powdered--the stylist, Eliot, declares him camera ready. He’d made Gabe iron his dark wash jeans after he’d pulled them from his bag, and though he’d huffed the entire way through, looking at himself in the mirror now, he grudgingly has to agree he was right.

“I’ve done all I can,” Eliot says as he zips up his make-up case. “If you can’t get your man, that’s on you.”

 

They sneak him into Tyson’s bedroom through the back door while Tyson and his family walk Clay back to the car. He’s probably staying in the same hotel as Gabe, and Gabe’s stomach sinks as he imagines running into him in the hallway. Clay seems like he genuinely likes Tyson. Gabe can’t think about that, though. Clay has known Tyson for six weeks. What’s that on Gabe, who has loved him for years?

When Tyson finally barrels into his room fifteen minutes later he’s already halfway out of his button down before he realizes he’s not alone. He freezes, one arm hanging out of the shirt, and turns around slowly to stare open mouthed at Gabe. His lips are redder than normal, and Gabe ignores why that must be.

“Did you get lost on your way to Rogers Arena?” Tyson asks, his face the epitome of gobsmacked.

Gabe shoves his hands into his pockets, but he’d picked his sexy jeans--the ones that clung to his thighs and ass--so they only manage to fit half way. “Called in sick to practice. I’ll meet the guys in Winnipeg tomorrow.”

“Right, of course,” Tyson says like that makes any sense. “So you just...swung by Victoria on your way?”

Gabe laughs, closing the space between them in two steps and pulling him in by the shirt. “You’re hopeless,” he says and finishes undoing the final buttons so that he can slide the shirt over Tyson’s shoulders and off. The skin underneath his clothes is golden from dates at vineyards and swimming in fountains under the Los Angeles sun, and Gabe wants to press kisses to every inch of it. Tyson’s gaze flicks from Gabe’s mouth to his eyes like he knows exactly what Gabe’s thinking. 

“Did they ask you to come?” Tyson asks once he’s pulled a fresh t-shirt over his head. His curls have grown out a little, and they’re just the right side of messy.

This was it: Gabe and Tyson, their stocking feet barely touching and heads bent together, standing in the middle of a bedroom Tyson has never lived in, waiting for this thing between them to finally become what it’s wanted to be since the beginning.

“I messed up before,” Gabe says, and he feels more confident about this than he has about anything in his entire life. “I should’ve gone for it when I had the chance, asked you to stay instead of dropping you off at the airport so you could be with someone else, but I’m tired of crossing my fingers and hoping for it to finally be the right time. I want to be the right guy now.” He lets his hands brush against Tyson’s, links their index fingers together. It feels like fire in the places where their skin touches. “Maybe I’m too late. Maybe you met these guys and realized you could do so much better, but I wanted you to know I’m an option.”

Tyson huffs a laugh, a gentle puff of air Gabe can feel across his cheek, they’re so close. And Gabe wants to kiss him.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Gabe continues. Eating up the silence with empty words was usually a Tyson move, but he’s suddenly acutely aware that Tyson might not have anything to say. Maybe Tyson had never wanted Gabe as an option. “I’ll go back to Denver--or, well, Winnipeg and then Denver--and maybe you’ll come back to Denver and pick me.” He smiles then, aims for cocky but probably lands too near to earnest instead. “You should definitely pick me.”

For the first time that night, Tyson reaches for Gabe, captures his jaw in his right hand and lets his thumb catch on Gabe’s lower lip as he drags it across his mouth. His eyes are all heat, and this is familiar at least. Tyson has looked at him like this hundreds of times before, and Gabe hopes he’ll never stop. “Convince me,” Tyson says, voice rough, his lips parted in an invitation.

It’s Gabe’s turn to laugh. “Haven’t you kissed enough hot guys on camera?”

“Gotta test out the merchandise so that I can make a well informed decision, Gabriel,” Tyson says, and Gabe adores his impish face. “That’s just good business.”

Gabe draws Tyson in by the hips, lets his hands skim just below the waistband of Tyson’s jeans. “I haven’t already left a good enough impression?”

“I’ve met some very good kissers recently,” Tyson says, barely wetting his lips with his tongue. Gabe can’t stop staring. It feels like it’s been forever since the last time they kissed, but Gabe still remembers the heat of their mouths pressed together and the sweep of Tyson’s tongue against his. He’s tired of waiting. “You can’t be sure I haven’t forgotten.”

So Gabe relents, allows himself to be pulled down into a searing kiss. He melts into it, the heat and the press of Tyson’s body against his, Tyson’s hands pulling Gabe more tightly against him like he might just swallow him whole if given half a chance. And Gabe would willingly be devoured by Tyson if it meant--

A cough, and suddenly they’re back in Tyson’s bedroom, half-hard, two cameras pointed at them to catch the best angles. They’re both breathing heavily, hot air against each other’s faces.

“Fuck,” Gabe breathes as he forcibly extricates himself from Tyson.

“Yeah,” Tyson agrees.

“I should--hockey.” Gabe shut his eyes and tries to bring his brain back online. Maybe he’s like a computer and just needs to be shut off and turned back on again.

“Right,” Tyson nods, several more times than necessary.

“Right,” Gabe agrees, grabbing Tyson’s hand one last time, and brushes his lips against Tyson’s temple. “Think about it.”

He doesn’t look back on his way out the door--doubts he’d be able to make himself leave if he did--and doesn’t stop until he’s made it back to the car that had brought him there to begin with.

“Hey,” the camera guy with dark, wavy hair calls after him. His camera is gone, but Gabe still doesn’t trust him not to be hunting for more footage. “I’m Josué.” He throws a hand out and Gabe shakes it on instinct. “I’m the one who convinced him to come on the show,” he explains, and that makes Gabe drop his hand instantly.

“Tys talks about you a lot. Like on the show, but before that too,” Josué says. “You were the guy in Denver, right?” He looks at Gabe appraisingly but doesn’t give away his final assessment, and Gabe is so tired of people looking at him like he’s something to take apart and put back together in a newer and more pleasing package.

“I--I--probably,” he finally admits. He feels so raw, exposed to these strangers who didn’t know him but would pass judgment anyway: Selfish. Jealous. Impulsive.

Josué must sense this because he takes a step back and offers gently, “He wasn’t gonna do the show but...there was this impossible guy in Denver he wanted to get over.” He nearly smiles, gesturing to Gabe with a slight upturn of his chin. “Maybe not so impossible.”

“I guess not,” Gabe agrees, but any heat left over from earlier is gone, replaced with a cold stone in his gut. Tyson had wanted to get over him, and Gabe had swooped in to ensure he couldn’t.

Oblivious, Josué says, “I’m pulling for you, man.”

“Yeah?” Gabe says, doubtful.

“It’s good TV.”

 

Gabe can’t sleep the whole night, wondering if Clay or Julian are asleep the next room over dreaming of their own kisses with Tyson. He drags himself onto the plane to Winnipeg the next morning and makes himself sick wondering if Tyson had managed to get over him in the weeks since he’d left. The game is a welcome respite,  the slide and scrape of his skates and the sounds on the ice  pressing everything else out. It’s not until EJ is crushing him into the boards to celebrate as the final buzzer ends the game that the worst thought hits.

Maybe declaring himself an option hadn’t been a romantic gesture at all. He’d seen first hand how Tyson was with Clay and Julian, the way they made him laugh, how he seemed to flourish under their attention. He could probably fall in love with either of them if given half a chance, but Gabe hadn’t even let him have that. He’d swooped in and possibly fucked up the good thing he was building for himself away from Denver.

After the kiss, he’d felt like Tyson was his to lose, but now he’s not so sure.

Tyson had wanted to get over Gabe for a reason.

 

Gabe finds out Tyson is back from Nate in the locker room after practice along with the rest of the guys. “What?” he says dumbly, tossing some balled up tape across the room to hit the side of Josty’s head. It misses, barely bumping Nemo’s shoulder before rolling onto the floor. “When did he get back?”

“Like three days ago, man,” Nate says through fabric as he yanks his sweater over his head. “He made me pick him up at six a.m. on an off day, which was abuse of best friend privileges honestly. I told him he should have made you do it. You’re the captain.”

Three days ago, Gabe had spent the day doing laundry and wandering the aisles of three different grocery stores to see who had the best stuff in stock. Tyson hated laundry but often invited himself along when Gabe shopped so that he could judge the items in Gabe’s cart. 

“Do you even like any of these?” he’d demanded the last time they’d gone to the store together, shaking his head at the four different kinds of leafy greens Gabe had selected, before dumping two pints of Ben and Jerry’s into the cart. “You are so bad at this.”

If Tyson had wanted to see him, Gabe had had the time--would have made the time even if he hadn’t--but Tyson hadn’t wanted to see him. His disappointment must show on his face because EJ slides up beside him and bumps their knees together.

“You’ve gotta get over it, man,” he says, gently, and the way he’s handling him so carefully rather than chirping him makes Gabe want to sink into the floor. “He’s engaged now.”

“He’s not,” Gabe insists, but he’s not as confident as he thought he’d be.

“De-ni-AL,” Mikko sing-songs, pushing EJ out of the way so that he can get to his stall. EJ swears in outrage and shoves a sweaty glove into Mikko’s face that effectively brings an end to that conversation.

Gabe keeps sitting with it, though, even after Tyson comes back to work and it becomes obvious he’s avoiding Gabe. Feeling guilty hadn’t felt great, but this is so much worse. Tyson knew Gabe was an option and picked someone else. No matter what he’d told himself before about Tyson deserving someone great, knowing that Tyson had found that person and Gabe wasn’t it leaves him walking around like he has bruised ribs, a constant ache in his chest with no cure but time.

He wants to beg out of watching the Home Town episode, but EJ is making a huge production of it, and  it would be a cop out to drop that kind of bombshell and not be there while his teammates lose their collective shit. That doesn’t make it any easier watching Clay charm Tyson’s dad from the minute he walks in the door or hear Len declare him ‘a keeper’ in his obnoxious, booming voice. Julian’s visit is awkward at least. He brings Tyson’s mom flowers, which she seems to find endearing, but without something to hold he can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands for the rest of the night. Still, when Tyson walks him to the car they kiss long enough that Gabe has to excuse himself to get more snacks.

When he sits back down, plate stacked with fewer healthy options than the trainers would approve of, they’re teasing a shocking twist for the Bachelor before going to commercial break. Gabe sinks deeper into the couch.

“You doing okay?” EJ asks. He steals half of Gabe’s spinach dip, and when Gabe complains, claims he’s saving Gabe from himself.

“I’m fine,” Gabe says, rotating his body so that EJ can’t get at his plate. “Go bother Sammy.”

“But I want to bother you,” EJ says, crowding further into Gabe’s space. "It's how I show my love.”

“Fine, just take my food.” He shoves the plate into EJ’s chest. “I don’t know why we’re friends. You’re the absolute worst.”

When Gabe tries to stand up, EJ throws his long legs over Gabe’s lap and stares him down with a sour, unimpressed expression. “You don’t get to be an asshole to me just because you’re pissed you didn’t make a move when you still had the chance.”

“I made a move.” EJ lifts an eyebrow, skeptically. “What, I can’t have secrets from you?”

“I think you  _ think _ you have secrets from me,” EJ says. “But that is seriously underestimating my vast network of informants. Trust no one.” He hands the plate back to Gabe, another cracker short, and leans in close to Gabe’s face. “Except me. Tell me all of your dirty little secrets.”

“Watch and maybe you’ll get one,” Gabe snaps, and that shuts EJ up well enough.

Gabe can’t keep still for the rest of the commercial break, practically vibrating out of his skin. It isn’t until Colin slips a hand on his knee that he realizes he’s been bouncing it enough to notice. 

“Tyson is a good judge of character. He’ll pick the right one,” Colin offers with a soft smile. Gabe can’t do anything but nod.

The show returns, opening on Tyson’s back as he makes his way down the hallway. His hair is disheveled from Clay running his hands through it, and Tyson half-heartedly smooths down a few of the curls at the nape of his neck.

“You think one boy sneaks back?” Sam asks, and Gabe stiffens. His heart wants to pop out of his chest it’s beating so hard.

“Gotta be,” JT says. “Tyson tucking himself in isn’t keeping anybody nailed to their seat.”

The camera turns with Tyson into the bedroom, and there’s a collective gasp as Gabe comes into frame.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Landy,” EJ hisses, but even he’s breathless. Gabe’s presence on screen seems to mercifully knock the words out of all of them.

He’s already lived this once, but it doesn’t make it easier now, surrounded by his guys, knowing so many others are huddled around their TV screens watching raptly as he tears out his heart and offers it for Tyson to devour. He’d already talked it through with Joe and his agent, had a reasonable enough idea of what to expect, but there was knowing something was coming and then there was living with it, and they didn’t feel that much similar after all.

“Maybe I’m too late,” TV Gabe says, and he doesn’t remember sounding this vulnerable. “Maybe you met these guys and realized you could do so much better--”

“Better than Swedish model hockey player?” Z  shouts incredulously as the rest of the team pelts him with popcorn. “Whatever, Gabe.”

“Captain Extra,” another voice adds to the fray, and from someone else, “Making us watch you makeout on TV has got to be like a $500 fine.”

“God are you gonna get rejected on TV?” JT chirps. “Harsh.”

“Yeah, right. Did you see that kiss?” Nemo interjects, pointing to the giant screen where Gabe and Tyson are trying to force themselves apart, still panting. “Talk about Splashy Kisses. Guess we know where EJ got the name for the horse.”

Gabe manages to avoid EJ’s eyes but not Colin’s gentle shoulder bump as Colin pieces together Tyson’s absence from Gabe’s life since he had returned. A few of the other guys seem to get it too, because the chirps start to die on their lips.

So now they know, and in a week the rest of the world would know Tyson hadn’t wanted him too.

On screen, he asks Tyson to think about it--stupid and cocky and so sure he was the right person for Tyson--and Gabe figures the worst of it is over. The screen will fade to black, the guys will offer their version of condolences, and tomorrow he’ll wake up to a world that still thinks he has a chance. Only it cuts to Tyson sitting on a couch with the host, his  lips swollen and pupils blown wide.

“I did not see that coming,” TV Tyson admits, still dazed. “Did you see that coming?”

Suddenly the screen cuts away to a video montage, clips the producers had pieced together from earlier episodes and footage they must have borrowed from the team: Tyson interviewing Gabe wearing Leia buns for Star Wars night, Gabe pulling Tyson around an outdoor rink while they race against Nate and Keefer, Tyson listing into Gabe while attempting to gain a height advantage by standing on his tip-toes, Gabe and Tyson in Tyson’s apartment arguing over how much garlic was too much garlic in pesto. Someone had certainly seen it coming. Marta, no doubt.

“Can you remind us who that is?” Chris asks, bringing Tyson’s focus back to him.

“That’s Gabe. He’s…” Tyson hesitates. “A friend from Denver.” Chris offers an eyebrow to which Tyson shrugs and offers a self-deprecating smile. “More than a friend.”

Chris smiles back encouragingly. “Had you known he had feelings for you?”

“I--maybe a little?” Tyson still isn’t blinking enough, though he seems less shell-shocked than before. “But he’s the captain of an NHL team. Even if he wanted to be with me, it’s not like he could actually do that.”

“Isn’t that what he just did?”

The camera zooms in until it’s just Tyson’s face filling the screen, mouth slightly open, eyes wide, before the screen goes black. Gabe feels everyone staring but he can’t think of anything to say. That was hopeful, right? That was still a chance, however small, that Tyson had actually thought about it and come around to Gabe’s corner. Gabe had chosen him over the safety of secrecy--finally--and that’s what Tyson had wanted. He’d gone on the show because that had never been on the table, but Tyson didn’t have to get over a guy who couldn’t pick him anymore.

After being peppered with questions and blamed for ruining the bracket, Gabe makes his getaway. They’d keep asking him things he doesn’t have the answers to if he hung around, and he’d rather talk to Tyson in the privacy of his own home than have them hanging on to his every word. There aren’t any missed calls or messages when he pulls into his garage and checks, but it’s still early. Maybe Tyson is waiting until he’s sure Gabe is by himself. 

The minutes tick by slowly, and Gabe starts to wonder whether or not Tyson is waiting for him to make the first move. Gabe goes as far as scrolling through his most recent messages until he finally reaches Tyson’s name before locking his phone again. Tyson would reach out when he was ready--or he wouldn’t--and that would be an answer too.

As the hour gets later and later, the latter seems more likely. Still, Gabe plugs his phone in next to his bed and makes sure the ringer’s volume is all the way up just in case Tyson calls after he falls asleep, but he doesn’t. Hoping he would had been foolish. Though he’d known better, Gabe had fallen for TV magic anyways. Of course they’d wanted him to seem like an option; they were after a compelling story, whether that was Tyson choosing Gabe or proposing to one of the guys they’d picked for him. Maybe he’d never had a shot at all.

 

He doesn’t brave the internet the next morning or even stop for a coffee on his way to practice, but the way the guys look at him in the locker room is answer enough. It’s not even that people might react poorly. He’s not worried about chirps from other teams or somehow disappointing any homophobes in the fanbase. He’s just not ready to have people feel sorry for him when Tyson officially rejects him on national television. 

Gabe knows himself well enough to know his shortcomings. He’s used to getting his way, can force his will on the ice if he has to, but it means he’s not prepared to lose gracefully.

He’s even less prepared for Tyson to follow him out to his car after practice when Tyson knows no one else is around to play buffer. Knowing Tyson is just as ill prepared to let him down gracefully is a sorry consolation, but Gabe will take it, all things considered.

“Can you meet me later?” Tyson blurts, and it makes Gabe jump more than he’d like to admit, but parking garages are not the place to surprise people. “Like at four?”

Gabe sighs, continuing to load his gear into the trunk without turning back to look at Tyson. “You can just tell me now.” He doesn’t need a big production for Tyson to let him down easy.

“Actually no...I can’t?” Tyson manages to look apologetic at least, though he’s avoiding Gabe’s eyes just as much as Gabe is his, focused instead on unhooking and rehooking his house key to his keyring. Gabe should return his spare key before the finale airs.

Gabe grits his teeth and plasters on a media smile. “Right.”

“They’ll send a car,” Tyson says. “Wear something nice.”

That gets his hackles up. “Are you really gonna make me do this in front of cameras?” It’s a ridiculous question. Of course he is. Gabe had signed the contract when he’d begged Marta to let him go after Tyson. He’d just never seriously considered the possibility of Tyson saying  _ thanks, but no thanks _ while an entire room of people with cameras and boom mics watched.

“You’ll come?” Tyson asks, his voice soft in a way Gabe can’t let himself examine too closely. He’s never been able to res ist Tyson when he wanted something . “They’ll meet you at four.”

Gabe rearranges his face into a carefully neutral expression, always able to mask his feelings in a way Tyson never has been, and slides into his car like Tyson isn’t asking for more than Gabe can actually give him. When it comes to Tyson, Gabe finds a way. “I don’t really have a choice.”

 

When the finale airs two weeks later, Nate manages to drag Tyson to the final viewing party. He enters to tampered down cheers from guys who aren’t quite sure where their allegiance should lie. Gabe is their captain, and they don’t want to hurt him, but they want good things for Tyson even if they think he wants the wrong things.

EJ was a good friend and had offered to cancel the party, but who was Gabe to interfere in a season-long tradition? He was an adult. He could show up and pretend to be happy for Tyson. At least that’s what he’d told EJ, who had still looked more than a little dubious when Gabe arrived early to help him set up.

“Are you sure you’re good?” EJ asks for the sixteenth time that hour as the opening credits roll and a recap from the last episode plays. Gabe doesn’t even flinch when they show all three kisses from all three would-be suitors.

“Seriously, EJ, I’m fine,” Gabe huffs. “Let it go.”

Tyson doesn’t sit still for more than three minutes the entire episode, flitting from kitchen to carpet to chair and back until Nate tells him to pull out the  froyo  EJ keeps in his freezer for cheat days. 

Tyson grimaces. “That’s not even real ice cream.”

“Bye, Tyson,” EJ says, shoving him towards the kitchen. “Some of us are trying to watch TV.”

When TV Tyson turns down Julian no one is particularly surprised, though Josty is vocally bitter that Nate managed to win the entire pot himself.

“That’s no fair,”  Josty  complains. “Tys probably gave you trade secrets.”

“He hasn’t even proposed yet,” Nate says. He shoves a pillow half-heartedly in Josty’s face and shushes him. “Chill out. I don’t need your negativity ruining this special moment.”

Except TV Tyson doesn’t propose to Clay. 

“Are you fucking with me right now, Landeskog?” EJ demands, and all eyes sweep to Gabe on the couch before flying back to the TV, where the show has transitioned from LA to the Denver skyline. The shot slowly narrows in on a sign that says Linger Eatuaries in bright blue and white script before widening out to show a singular figure sitting alone at an otherwise empty rooftop bar. Before it’s even obvious that it’s Gabe onscreen, the team is hooting and hollering.

The camera follows Tyson up the steps and across the rooftop deck. It’s only been two weeks, but it’s still a surprise to Gabe how pale he looks to himself in his light grey suit, how determined and brittle his smile is when Tyson greets him with a quiet  _ hey _ that the microphones barely pick up. Gabe jerks to a standing position, but they don’t hug like Tyson had with the other finalists. At the time, Gabe hadn’t thought he’d be able to touch Tyson without breaking something important.

They stare at each other for a long moment, breathing in tandem, until Tyson finally says, “I’m not proposing to you.”

TV Gabe doesn’t manage to disguise even a small bit of the impact that blow has, his media smile dimming to nothing. Even now, crowded on the couch between EJ and the arm rest, his heart is racing like it had up on that roof. “Yeah,” his onscreen self manages.

A hand slides down his arm and circles his wrist, and Gabe looks over to discover that Tyson has found his way to Gabe’s side of the couch..

And then, for all the world to see in a moment Gabe knows will be clipped and gifed and uploaded to a dozen different sites, Tyson laces his fingers through Gabe’s and says, “But I’m picking you.”

“Oh thank god,” comes Gabe’s voice from the speakers and it’s like surround sound as his teammates echo the sentiment.

“Shh,” Nemo demands. “We’re in the middle of a moment here.”

“I’ve loved you for so long,” Tyson continues, and it’s hard to remember there’s still more show to go because Gabe has Tyson in real life holding his hand just like he is on the screen. “Like from that time I caught you singing that Backstreet Boys song complete with choreographed dance moves, I knew I was totally gone, and then you had to crash my dating show with romantic declarations, so if you’re gonna choose me then I’m gonna choose you back. Every time.”

He reaches into the breast pocket of his suit and pulls out a satin box that he offers to Gabe. Nestled inside is a simple gold band. “I thought you weren’t proposing to me.”

“I’m not,” Tyson scoffs. “When I propose to you, I’ll do a way better job than that. I expect to be wooed first. You think sneaking into my parents’ house and slipping me some tongue will do the job? Absolutely not.”

Whatever space that had been between them has disappeared as Tyson pulls Gabe against him so that they’re standing chest to chest, their feet slightly staggered to bring them that much closer. Gabe remembers wanting to kiss him so badly in that moment but refusing to on principle. 

“Maybe if I take you on a sunrise hot air balloon ride and axe throwing and wine tasting--”

“Gross. Pass.”

“--and get Lord Huron to do a private concert in your backyard you’ll be adequately wooed.” Gabe watches as his breath ghosts across Tyson’s neck, and it had taken so much restraint not to lean in the final few inches and press his lips to the tender skin of his throat.

“Too late,” Tyson rasps, tipping his head to the side in invitation.

“I’m gonna woo you so hard.”

The smile that breaks across Tyson’s mouth rivals the sun for its light and warmth. “Maybe I’m gonna woo  _ you  _ so hard.”

And finally they’re kissing. The room erupts with shouts and cheers, and Gabe’s phone is beeping with notifications from nearly every person he knows, but Gabe misses it all. He’s too busy with the real Tyson -- the one who hasn’t been made to fit some prepackaged storyline. “I love you so much,” he says because he can’t help it. It’s something Tyson should know.

Tyson grins. “Yeah, you do.”

That elicits a shower of popcorn over their heads courtesy of Nate and threats of additional fines from EJ. Gabe laughs, pressing his lips to Tyson’s while EJ demands another hundred dollars for kissing within a two foot radius of his person. 

Gabe will happily pay every penny. Tyson had picked him--they had picked each other--and that makes everything that might come afterward worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't make it work for a title, but know that this verse from Hozier's "Shrike" is Gabe:
> 
> "I couldn't utter my love when it counted  
> Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now  
> And I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted  
> Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now"


End file.
